Wednesday, November 2, 2011

all booted up

I don't know when I became a boot wearing girl. Heck, growing up in snowy frigid  Northern BC I wouldn't even wear snow boots in winter. Between inheriting my dad's muscly calves, and adding my own layers of fluff over the muscle, stylish boots haven't often been an option. 

I tried to pretend for a long time that I was fine wearing ankle boots but ... really ... we all know those are just for fat girls who can't wear real boots. As a young mom, and then a returning univeristy student, there wasn't a lot of money or need for stylish boots, and I wasn't a particularly stylish person.

But somewhere, somehow, over the last 10 years - maybe it's living in Victoria, or maybe it's losing some weight, or maybe I've just come into my own in my 40s - I have become a boot girl.

Ankle boots, yes, because they are blue suede, and lovely, and remind me of Glasgow where I bought them, and they are now a style statement rather than a consolation prize 

But also calf hugging black stretchy boots that massage gently with every step and whose solid square heel and kicky square toes say "Heck ya, I'm tall, and I'm wearing these boots - deal with it!"

And sexy blood red boots with fun polka-dot seams that look like trouble

And comfy almond toe brown boots that do nothing for my ankles but everything for my spirit with some fantastic curves and buckles. 

Delicate grey suede boots that murmur gathered femininity with the click of each kitteny heel.
and now I'M A PIRATE YOU BETTER WATCH OUT over-the-knee/fold-down boots in black leather, with laces that shiver his timbers.

Oh, by the way, I finally own winter boots ... now that I no longer live where real winter happens. 

Yes, I am a boot girl now. And a shoe girl. And a bags girl. I don't collect any of them indiscriminately. I don't have insane piles of them that people comment on. But I have them. And want more of them. And each pair and each bag says something different about the many sides of me.

That was fun! 

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